Logical Magic, Magical Logic
by Shiftling
Summary: When a Vulcan child is accidentally deposited in England by a transporter accident upon a nearby research vessel, Harry Potter and crew must learn to merge worlds far more than they ever have before. The rating is subject to change.
1. The Ride Home

Harry Potter had been abnormal since birth. Of course, if one were to ask his aunt and uncle, they would say he was a criminally-inclined youth they had utterly failed with. If asked, the boy himself simply would shut his mouth and refuse to answer… until asked about Hogwarts. After surviving the ordeals of the Chamber of Secrets, the school year ended, and he therefore returned to a far more threatening snakes' den. The Dursley residence.

Harry thought this all over, his mind roiling violently as he rode the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross station in London. He was returning to the one place he had to call home before he turned eleven, and not by his own choice. Rolling his eyes, he turned his head to look back to the compartment.

"Hey guys, what time are we supposed to be back in London again?" He asked absentmindedly. Hermione shook her head, evidently thinking '_boys!'_ "Harry, I told you five minutes ago! We should be back around two-thirty." She glanced at Ron worriedly, who shrugged. Not like the redhead had any idea what was going on, either. Ten minutes later, Harry glanced at his watch and sighed deeply. Hermione, deeply rooted in a book, blissfully ignored the signal of agitation.

Ron, however, spoke up after a few everlasting moments. "Harry, mate, what's up? You seem, erm, tense, or something." Harry looked back at Ron, having been attempting to disguise the flickering of his nervous eyes by gazing halfheartedly at the darting countryside. The Boy Who Lived shook his head softly and opened his mouth to speak equally as softly.

"I'm just not all that keen on going back, is all," Harry murmured. "Hey, don't worry about it! I'll owl you if we're going to a Cannons match this summer, and if we aren't, I'll make sure you come over for a good while before school starts again!" Ron exclaimed in an attempt to soothe Harry. The dark-haired boy nodded, plastering a smile onto his face. "Sounds like it'll work, Ron. You sure your mum won't mind?" The Weasley child let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a guffaw. "Are you kidding? She already thinks of you as her eighth kid, much less someone who could drop by anytime if your aunt and uncle would let their house be hooked up to the Floo Network." _Which will never happen,_ he added mentally, somehow preventing a grimace from crossing his face.

Harry's smile eased into a genuine grin. "Thanks, Ron." He paused, then said, "Don't you think we should change into Muggle clothes soon? It's almost one-thirty, and we all know how long it takes Ron to get dressed!" he teased, sticking out his tongue at his best friend before evacuating to allow Hermione to change first. "C'mon, Ron. Let's see if the trolley will ever make it down here or if it was cleaned off three cars back."

Hermione pointedly closed the door and cast an obscuring charm of some sort upon the glass, then quickly and efficiently changed into a comfortable blue tee shirt and a pair of jeans, tucking her robes into a backpack she had enchanted to be far larger on the inside than it had appeared. This one charm was trickier than she had thought, somehow. Her first try upon this bag had led to it being large enough that if she had fallen in, it would have taken months to venture back out, assuming she survived long enough. Subsequent attempts had rendered it either far smaller than needed until this size was the result. A little big for her tastes, but perfectly usable. And she wouldn't get lost inside it, a definite plus.

She stepped outside, calling the boys in from two compartments over. "Aww, 'Mione! We were just getting Lee to show us his tarantula again!" Ron complained, leading Harry into the compartment before loosening his school tie even further. Hermione got the hint and left the car so Harry and Ron could relish the masculine air, if it could be called that. More like stinky fart-scented air where even Chocolate Frogs suffocated with ease.

Her point was proven when she returned, Harry having accidentally dropped a Dungbomb from his pocket, where it promptly exploded. Utterly disgusting, and what had Harry been planning, she wondered. Surely his family wouldn't appreciate the scent of dung permeating the house. Even so, Hermione set herself down in the compartment and relaxed. There was nowhere like where her two best friends were, even if it reeked of Dungbomb and boys.

It was all too soon when the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station.


	2. A Strange Place

Thousands of miles away, the Vulcan crew of the Tvidon'es'talsu T'V'tosh struggled with the infrastructure of their ship. Though none would admit it, the research vessel was beginning to wear on the nerves of each and every crewmate. Only one was exempt from this category, a child of ten Earth years born near the beginning of their first mission.

Her name was T'rembrale, and her sole roles upon the ship were those of an accelerated education on her part and entertaining the crew so as to maintain their sanity. She rather enjoyed the presence of her mother and father, strict as they could be. Ages ago, her mother had achieved Kolinahr, the complete banishment of emotion in place of logic. Now, T'lia was calm at all times, the Vulcan T'rembrale knew as mother.

The young Vulcan struggled not to smile as her father praised her success in schooling. She was already three years beyond standard schooling, learning advanced mathematical theories to be applied practically upon the ship.

Within the sunken dome, she tapped holograms in order to select the next question she was to answer. _What is the square root of sixty-seven, divided by nineteen to the fifth decimal place?_ T'rembrale paused marginally, then pronounced cleanly and confidently, "Zero point four three zero eight zero." The machine then replied in a slightly robotic female voice, "Correct."

With that, her lesson for the day was complete, although she was deeply saddened that the entire lesson had been review material. Perhaps the ship's data banks were running low on traditional schooling material and so were trying to impede her progress temporarily? Or perhaps she was coming to the close of a traditional school level… yes, this was much more likely. From what she had discovered over her years upon this ship with her small adult family of researchers, review lessons were far more frequent towards the end of a schooling level than anywhere else.

Nevertheless, she obeyed the computer and rapidly walked back up to the small bridge of the ship. "Sulok, I have finished my lessons for today." He sharply nodded in acknowledgement, continuing to check the data displayed upon the sensor screens. "May I assist you today, or should I find Masek?"

If the Vulcan had been a Human instead, he would have smiled broadly at the young girl. "Come here, young T'rembrale. Tell me what you see these readings as meaning." T'rembrale eagerly stepped forward, careful to hide the excitement she felt behind a blank mask.

She gazed at the screens, drawing up more data as needed for the information to be complete. A minute later, she looked up at Sulok with a light in her eyes. "We are approaching a planet. Inhabitable, with an adequately pressurized oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. All signs indicate a sentient life upon the planet spanning the entire globe, sparing the most extreme environments."

She paused, and then asked, "But why are none living in the desert? Surely if they are anything like us, they can live there with some caution."

This is where Sulok nodded, his eyebrow lowering. "Good. As for your question, consider the far more hospitable environments available upon this planet. Why would an intelligent being forsake an entirely viable homeland where food and water are readily available for a land that has minimal quantities of both?"

T'rembrale then felt ashamed, though she dared not express it. "Of course. I had neglected to consider the matter from the inhabitants' viewpoint. Thank you for explaining the matter to me, Sulok."

Sulok merely nodded again, this time checking the course laid in. It must be for the planet they had found, or the scanners' findings would be for naught. "It is of little importance, little one. As long as you learn from my teaching, I will always have time for the matter." The course correct, he then said, "Now, run off. We will be arriving within an hour or two."

The child Vulcan sharply tilted her head down, bowed shallowly, and then ran off the bridge to allow Sulok to perform his duties in peace. She wanted to play, much as any child would given the circumstances.

In this case, she was off to the transporter bay to pretend she was going off the ship in the landing crew for once. Only on one occasion had she been off the ship for a landing party, and that had been to keep a family friend's child company while the adults discussed the possibility of gaining a spare dilithium crystal and an expansion to the ship's databanks.

Stepping onto the transporter, she boldly called out, "Energize!" T'rembrale envisioned the sensation of dematerializing in order to appear somewhere entirely different, this time a lush world as varied as the creatures she had seen on the viewscreens here on board.

Of course, the world was hot as Vulcan. To many species, this was unbearably warm, but to T'rembrale… it was perfect for an adventure. She "saw" splendid creatures, fighting the vicious ones off with a phaser (on the stun setting, of course) and eventually taking an infant of one cuddly species that somewhat resembled a sehlat aboard the Tvidon'es'talsu T'V'tosh.

Just as T'rembrale "transported aboard", the ship arrived. "All personnel to the bridge," called out her father's voice through the intercom. "We have arrived in orbit." She knew she was exempt from this, however. If she had been required, he would have included in the statement, 'T'rembrale is to report to myself at once.' Of course, if _all_ personnel were on the bridge, that logically meant he was there too.

She continued her game some more, playing with her pretend sehlat-creature some more before pretending to beam the poor thing back down. Of course, this included an actual transporter beam, whether or not it had been authorized.

T'rembrale raced around to the transporter controls, plotted in a target in a small area free of inhabitants, then ran back to the transporter pad. "Goodbye, Sehlat-thing," she murmured gently to the invisible creation of her mind. Her hand crept around the creature's shoulder area, then she pinched the imaginary pet so as to cause it to collapse had it been real.

Her limber legs then carried her back around to the transporter controls where she once more boldly announced, "Energize," sliding the switch to power on the transporter. Just as it kicked on, she realized something really was flickering wildly as the machine spirited it away.

Rapidly thinking, it occurred to her that it was her precious bracelet, the only link she had to her promised back home on Vulcan. The mind-link had not yet bonded them for life, more than betrothal but less than marriage until pon farr came upon him, and so this was truly her only gift from him. She raced across the transporter bay, hitting the memory delete button on accident as she brushed the control deck.

As she grabbed the open-ended bracelet, the transporter kicked on and sent her down to the planet below.

When she opened her eyes at last, it was certainly not to the sterile ship's interior she had been raised in. Rather, the world around was lush green and strange structures dotted the nearby land. A single thought darted through T'rembrale's mind as she looked about in a sheer panic despite the training her young Vulcan mind had been perpetually exposed to since birth.

_Where am I?_

Author's Note: I apologize for the length of these chapters! I know they are more than a bit short, but in the future they will be longer. I simply haven't written fiction in quite a while and now just need to get back into the swing of things.

Anyhow, please forgive me and review anyhow!


	3. Confusion

{Author's Note: Thanks for the quick review, anon! I just wish you had been signed in so I could thank you properly, but regardless, thank you! I'll be sure to keep a close eye on T'rembrale after your comment.  
Before anyone asks, I had her brush against the delete button so the others couldn't simply transport down and get her easily once they realize she's gone. Instead, the Vulcan researchers have to search pretty much the entire half of the globe they were on, if that makes sense. Otherwise, the crew of the ship would simply beam down, get her, and get back to Vulcan. Story over. }

Back home at the Dursley residence, Harry attempted to sleep restlessly. Uncle Vernon had picked him up wordlessly, barely pronouncing a single syllable as he had recently contracted a rather bad case of laryngitis. On the other hand, Aunt Petunia had hardly shut her mouth as she berated Harry.

"You keep your… _freakishness_ quiet, you hear that?" She at last paused, clearly expecting a reply from Harry. It took him a second, but he evidently clued in that she was silent for a reason and nodded his head gently. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"We don't need or want your kind around, but we took you in out of the goodness of our hearts. You had better remember that and behave, boy." She wasn't nearly as forceful as Harry's uncle, but instead his aunt possessed an acid tongue. Petunia knew exactly how to add the most bite to the words, to make even the sweetest phrase become a harsh insult.

Once more, Harry silently nodded as he sat in the back seat of the sedan his uncle drove back to Number Four, Privet Drive. His heart sank deeper within his chest with each passing mile. This was _real. _

He was going back to his personal hell for the summer, and he couldn't even pretend to enjoy the ride there with Dudley taking up almost all of the back seat. Harry was squished, hot, and sweaty with his obese cousin taking the full blast of the air conditioning coming from the front of the vehicle.

It was going to be a long summer, he could already tell.

The next day, Harry was outside spreading manure over the flowerbeds in front of Number Four while Vernon silently glared darkly at Harry and sipped icy lemonade spiked with just a shot of vodka. He needed the alcohol, he claimed, to soothe both his nerves with the wretched boy about and his throat tortured by the recent illness.

Harry didn't bother to point out that the burning liquor likely agitated the tissues of his uncle's throat far more than it soothed. After all, he didn't want more "chores".

The boy didn't dare call the work chores in his mind; for he considered chores something he was to be paid however meagerly for. This… _slavery_, he thought, it was definitely slavery. At the least, they could feed him properly as a payment of sorts.

Regardless, he spread the fertilizer evenly over the entire flowerbed before rinsing off his hands with the hose and starting on the next task: weeding and planting more annuals in the aforementioned flowerbed. This was going to be an all-day task.

* * *

The Vulcan girl walked uneasily through the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Her eyebrow instantly twitched upwards as she spied children _flying_. That was illogical; people could not fly… or could they?

She proceeded closer, spying the device the children hovered about on. From what she could see, it resembled what her parents used to sweep sand out of their residence while the small family resided on Vulcan, with some kind of bristles upon one end and a wooden pole on the end the children grasped.

Interesting.

At last pushing aside any shyness as illogical, she began walking up the hill towards the wooded area where the children flew about. T'rembrale's eyes wildly darted about in a restrained excitement, seeing just how green this planet was. It was so different from Vulcan.

Where Vulcan's deserts ruled the globe, this planet was evidently primarily water, which would explain why there was so much plant life. The people spanned the entire world here. From what she recalled of her studies on Vulcan, her people were confined far more specifically to clusters of civilization. On the other hand… scans here had indicated that the native people spider webbed the world except for the seas and arctic. Most fascinating in the most wonderful way, she found.

Her mind darting about despite her halfhearted attempts to calm down, T'rembrale at least reached the orchard where the local children were playing a game involving the throwing of a red fruit.

What caught her attention most, however, was how openly these people displayed emotion. Not once had she seen a non-Vulcan anywhere but on the viewscreens, and here some of the boys that seemed to be older sported a devilish grin as they batted one of the fruits back and forth, evidently attempting to hit the others.

At long last, T'rembrale saw that despite her curiosity, her silence was illogical. She could learn so much more if she just conversed with these beings! After all, she could mind-meld away their memories if she absolutely had to… hopefully.

Mind-melds weren't guaranteed to work on this newly discovered species, she knew. T'rembrale also had not completed traditional work to control the ability properly yet. Even so, the young Vulcan knew she could do it if pressed. The question that remained was whether she could do it properly or if she would bungle her first initiated meld, seeing as it would be with a previously undiscovered race.

After briefly considering all of this, she immediately pushed the idea out of her mind. It would not be logical to initiate a meld with this species, particularly since she had no idea of what their capabilities were.

Far better to keep an ace in the hole than to show all one's cards early in the game, after all.

"_Na'shaya, kanlar," _she said somewhat louder than she had expected. The air here was denser than on either the vessel or Vulcan, and far more oxygen-rich. Perhaps this newfound energy wasn't purely emotion. Perhaps it was a natural chemical reaction to having more resources available to process than her metabolism was accustomed to.

The boys all paused in midflight quickly, looking for the source of the sound. If their mum found out about another kid seeing them flying too high and therefore needing a memory charm… Each of these Weasley children wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.

Ron was the first to set down on the ground, gripping his aging broom tightly enough his knuckles turned ashen pale. "Erm, hi." He paused momentarily, eyeing the girl before him. She appeared to be younger than him by at least three or four years, if not five.

"You're not from around here, are you?" an older voice spoke from behind the youngest male of the Weasley clan. Ron jumped as Percy landed beside him. "Percy! You could give a guy some warning, you git!" he whispered angrily towards his brother.

"Shut up, Ron. I don't think she speaks English." Percy said, a concerned look crossing his eyes despite himself. By now, Fred and George had landed as well and were standing slightly to the side of their older and younger brothers.

"Well, the only thing to do…" Fred chimed in and paused, "Is to take her to Mum to see if some translation charm is possible," George completed.

Percy rolled his eyes. This ridiculous thing with the twins and finishing each others' sentences tended to get on his nerves rather quickly. Of course, the two knew that. Otherwise, Gred and Forge wouldn't pull off the trick quite so frequently.

All the while, T'rembrale stood starting at them, taking in the words that obviously weren't her native tongue. Despite herself, confusion crossed her face. Why hadn't she realized that the native sentients wouldn't speak Vulcan? Now that the fact was out in the open, she was appalled at the obvious lack of logic in her decision to make contact.

"Come on, let's take her to Mum then," Percy announced as he further took in the girl's odd appearance. Eyebrows tilting upwards and what appeared to be pointed ears under her thick black hair? Bizarre. "Ron, you're closest to her age… she'll probably be more comfortable with you leading her than me, and I'm not trusting Fred and George." Ron nodded, his signature Weasley hair blowing in the breeze.

"Will do, Perce." Ron walked up to the girl, offering his hand. T'rembrale merely looked down at the offered hand, not understanding. She kept her hands to her sides, then looked back up and raised a questioning eyebrow. Ron then raised his own eyebrow in surprise and gently leaned forward to hold her hand as they walked together.

What he didn't expect, however, was that she tug her hand away from him almost immediately. Discomfort laced T'rembrale's gaze, her mouth now remaining closed as she attempted to discern bits and pieces of this foreign language. Given long enough, surely she could figure it out… But right now, she needed to understand. Not in two or three months for only the basics.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, forcing herself to be calm. Emotion tampered with logic, and logic ruled all. She must remember that and remain calm. Instead, she used her slender hand to place his fingertips on her shoulder. There would be okay, and hopefully it wouldn't violate any cultural norms of this society she had found herself unexpectedly immersed in.

Ron shrugged, but then accepted the relocation. "Alright, come with us…" he murmured, gently pressing upon her shoulder to indicate that she was to come with them. Fred and George snickered loudly behind him, and Ron shot them a death-glare. They would use this as blackmail later, he knew it… but this girl, she didn't even look like she belonged anywhere near here.

Her clothes seemed entirely too warm for the toasty summer weather, and they appeared foreign. Mentally, he compared it to a little-seen form of wizard robes, but far warmer than those he wore to school if his impression of the fabric was correct. The material seemed to be rather coarse, but the entire outfit was made of various weaves of the same material. _How odd_, he thought. _Almost as if she dropped out of the sky. __**Almost**_**. **

As the five neared The Burrow, T'rembrale's eyebrows raised dramatically. This building was neither practical in the form it was built nor aesthetically pleasing, but these people seemed to be leading her inside. As long as the building did not collapse, she supposed it would be a reasonable shelter.

"Alright, this is home." Ron pointedly announced to the odd girl despite her evident lack of a grasp on the English language. "If you stay, you'll probably share a room with Ginny or take either Bill or Charlie's old room." She almost imperceptibly nodded her head, a motion she hoped was something along the lines of an affirmative or an 'I have no idea what you said, but let's go with it anyway'.

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Fred asked incredulously. "Why would she stay?" George added. Ron rolled his eyes theatrically and proceeded to bicker with his brothers.

T'rembrale was frankly quite relaxed by this procession. Even though she couldn't understand what they were saying, perhaps persistent exposure to the language would accelerate the acquisition process.

At last tired by his brothers' persistent verbal sparring, Percy walked around to the other side of T'rembrale and gently urged her forward into the house. "Come on, then… we've got to see if Mum has anything she can do."

Inside the house, the environment appeared entirely different. First off, she noticed the drastic temperature difference and a faint almost buzz in the atmosphere. Despite Percy leaving his shoes on, she immediately took hers off and left them in the doorway. Perhaps her parents weren't exactly traditional in this regard, but they had found they needed to clean up sand far less frequently when shoes were left in the doorway.

Even now, T'rembrale considered it common courtesy to leave her shoes in the doorway of another's residence. It was only logical to remain a welcome guest by not tracking in dirt and otherwise making a mess.

Her shoes off despite the now-following Weasley boys' stares, she followed them farther into the house. Very little here seemed logical to her, but perhaps once she understood the culture it would be.

"Mum! Can you come here?" Ron bellowed at the top of his lungs. T'rembrale was uneasy, but refused to show it and instead forced her face to become purged of emotion. "Ronald, this had better be worthwhile," a woman's voice called back. "Please, Mum, it is!" Percy responded.

Now Molly Weasley knew something was up and at last gave up on tidying up Ginny's desk a touch. "Alright, coming." T'rembrale's left eyebrow rose as she saw the plump woman descend the stairs before her, taking in the loving atmosphere that encompassed her.

A similar look crossed Mrs. Weasley's face, only magnified. "Boys, explain yourselves," she finally demanded.

* * *

At last finished with the backbreaking labor, Harry hosed himself off as best he could before sitting down on the edge of the Dursleys' front drive. Once dry, he could finally retreat to his bedroom for a while and perhaps attempt to do some of his summer homework.

That is, if his oh so dear uncle hadn't locked away his trunk again this summer. All Harry really knew was that as soon as the family arrived back at Privet Drive, he had been ushered into his bedroom and threatened to remain silent or else before the door was slammed shut and audibly locked. What the "or else" was, he still didn't have a clue.

Even without the accompanying threat identified, Harry had decided to play it safe for once. He now had Hedwig in the room and kept the cage slightly opened. When someone entered the bedroom, it easily appeared to be closed, but the intelligent creature could easily budge the hinge in order to get out.

Since Uncle Vernon had installed bars in his window, Harry regretted his inability to send post to his friends without being permitted out of the room in the first place.

When he was allowed out, it was generally a toilet run or work time ending with a small meal and an exceedingly short shower. As such, his only method of getting Hedwig out to hunt or send mail was to write the letter beforehand and carry the snowy owl outside as he readied to labor relentlessly on whatever task his aunt and uncle designated for the day.

Today had been one such day and he now was sorry for having sent Hedwig off so soon. He had much more to say now, including a request that the Weasleys see about having him come over as soon as possible in the summer, and for as long as possible as well.

Harry's stomach grumbled loudly as he waited several more minutes. To passersby, he could have easily appeared to be sunbathing, if not for the long, baggy jeans adorning his legs and the thick tee that enveloped his torso.

Surely this was a joke of sorts to the Dursleys, particularly Petunia. The thicker, more oversized Harry's clothes were, the longer they took to dry after such a washing. She also delighted in making him rinse off many times before finally being permitted back inside, frequently clad in nothing but oversized boxers as he entered the front door.

The day drawing to a close, he wolfed down the ham and cheese sandwich his aunt had shoved in his hands as he proceeded upstairs. He shoved the slightly damp clothes into the hamper under Dudley's circus tent of a shirt as he stepped into the shower for his allotted three minutes to wash up.

Not even a minute into the shower, however, Uncle Vernon came bellowing at the door. "Hurry up, boy! We don't need you wasting our water!" Harry ruefully shook his head, finishing rinsing shampoo out of his tousled hair and soap off the body now unaccustomed to such labor.

He would be sore tomorrow, he knew that. Hopefully… over time, he would become somewhat acclimated to the abuse once again.

Thirty seconds after Vernon Dursley's early protests at Harry's cleanliness, the teenager stepped out of the bathroom clad in a ratty towel and clutching a set of soaked boxers. "Don't drip, _boy._" The hefty man snarled, spitting out the final word. "I'll have you scrubbing tomorrow if I find so much as a drop, mind you."

"Yes sir." Harry's eyes lowered, careful to show subservience to his uncle. The man was like a razor when it came to cutting at protruding behaviors of Harry's, particularly those perceived as rebellious.

The boy then walked the few steps back to his room and draped the boxers over Hedwig's empty cage. He thought back to last year, when Dobby had been intercepting his letters from his friends. "Please be back soon, Hedwig… I don't know if I can take this like I did last year anymore." The isolation would kill him if nothing else did.

Far above all the humans on Earth, those upon the Vulcan vessel were as near to a panic as it could be said the unemotional Vulcans became. Where had T'rembrale gone? She hadn't responded to the intercom as she had been taught since she was but two.

Either the light sleeper was curled up in a dark recess of the small ship or she was no longer on the vessel. At last, Masek had found the footage of the last time anyone had seen her: when T'rembrale had been on the bridge with Sulok.

Her mother stared at the screen intently, watching the girl actively interact with her imaginary playmate for quite a while before "transporting" what she had been playing with down. What piqued the Vulcan's attention was the silvery glimmering upon the transporter pad.

"Look," was all the mother said, obliquely indicating the scene unfolding in real time. Her own child, so logical for her age, activated the transporter in such an illogical manner. T'rembrale's father barely suppressed a gasp as he saw his only child vanish, although he fully knew this had happened hours beforehand.

{Another note: Alright! It appears I've finally gotten into the swing of things a bit more! Subsequent chapters should follow the pattern of being just a tad longer than the previous, but not as a rule.

Please review this chapter and I'll do my best to respond. If all goes well, I should put up another chapter either tomorrow or the day after. Of course, that one review the anonymous benefactor put up spurred me to write all this… so please?}


	4. An Eventful Day

{Author's Note: A bit later than I intended… sorry, guys. It would have been on time but for me being incoherent when I wrote it the first time. When I came back after a few hours of sleep to read it over, even I could not interpret what the heck I was trying to say. So… here is the rewritten version. The much-improved version.  
I realize I'm neglecting Harry for the moment, but the focus on him will come later, once T'rembrale has had time to adapt to life on Earth a bit. After all, his life is fairly repetitive in my imagination until he gets to The Burrow!}

Hours later, Mrs. Weasley was finally finished lashing out at her sons and had moved T'rembrale into Ginny's room as a temporary measure. The strange, unemotive girl did not appear to mind the shared quarters, and had immediately cleared a small corner but for a small rug she must have found in some dark, dusty corner of the house. Molly was becoming worried about her, but when she had peeked in to see what was going on in the room, the child had been sitting quietly upon that rug.

T'rembrale indeed did not care for a shared environment as much as a solitary room, but she also knew she needed to cross this language barrier as quickly as possible. To that means, Ginny was an invaluable tool.

The youngest Weasley chattered incessantly to T'rembrale, taking the raised eyebrows and incredulous, graceful handling of many trinkets around the house as a sign of curiosity. "Now, this is one of Dad's Muggle things. I think it's called a battery," Ginny related confidently enough.

The Vulcan child quickly lost interest in the cylindrical form with a raised bump on one end. As far as she knew, it could be a molded piece of metal with plastic overlay decorating it. Her hands traced over the feather, recalling the birdlike haurok of Vulcan as she did so. The feather structure was different in a few key ways, but overall the appearance was the same.

Her attention catching on T'rembrale's new focal point, Ginny commented, "That's a quill." She gently grasped the feather and snatched an inkwell. "And this is ink." An idea struck her quite suddenly, and she fished wildly for a clean roll of parchment.

T'rembrale's attention remained vapidly on Ginny's motions. The native girl dipped the quill into the inkwell and proceeded to write upon the parchment her name in bold, clear letters. "Ginny," she proclaimed, pointing at each individual letter as she continued. "G, I, N, N, Y," then pointed at herself. "My name is Ginny. And you are…?" she asked as she pointed at T'rembrale.

The Vulcan's mind spun as she processed the newfound information. So the symbols upon half of the items upon this desk were writing, and they meant something profound to these people! T'rembrale felt it only necessary to reciprocate, which in this case meant she delicately took the quill from Ginny as if it would crumble if handled too roughly.

Her hand danced down the page after dipping the quill in the ink again. In the scrawling modern Vulcan script, she wrote her name. "_Ahm t'nash'veh se T'rembrale_." She then copied Ginny's motions and pointed to each symbol as she spelled it out. "T'rembrale," her pale green-tinted hand pointed to herself as she said the final word, hoping that Ginny would understand. T'rembrale also hoped she had understood what Ginny was trying to convey, but so far, it seemed that her assumptions had been logical and correct.

"Your name is T'rembrale?" Ginny gaped at the newly discovered communications bridge. If nothing else, the two could exchange names for items they saw and eventually grow to speaking on at least a basic level by the time school started.

A few floors above them, Hedwig had just reached Ron, who was reading Harry's despondent letter. He winced as he read Harry's description of the first day back, then immediately began penning a response.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I really hope the rest of your summer hols go better than they have so far… Still, I have to tell you what happened earlier today! This really weird girl came walking up while Fred, George, Percy, and me were playing Quidditch. Turns out, she doesn't speak English so she's staying here at the Burrow until we can figure out what the bloody hell's going on here. _

_You've got to see her, though. She's got these wonky eyebrows and pointy ears and she always looks ill, her skin's that greenish. Besides all that, she never smiles or anything… it's really creepy, I think. Mum's put her in Ginny's room though, so I guess I don't have to deal with her all that much. _

_Besides, she looks like she's younger than Ginny by at least a year or two… Anyhow, I swear on threat of being subject to Fred and George's new inventions that I'll beg Mum to let you come here before your birthday and stay until school starts again. _

_Later,  
Ron_

_P.S.- Ginny just came screaming up the stairs. She says the girl's name is something weird like T-rembrale or something like that. I'll have to make her write it next time, I guess._

_

* * *

_

He rolled up the parchment and tied it to Errol's leg. _Please don't die this trip_, Ron mentally begged the decrepit old owl before sending him on his way. The creature looked fit to collapse any day now, although he had appeared that way for the past three years once Ron thought of it.

Harry moped about his miserably hot room with no hope of temporarily escaping anytime soon. Now that the chores were finished for the next several days except for the usual cooking and minor cleanups about the house, he remained confined to quarters under threat of whatever Uncle Vernon chose to do that particular day.

However, Harry now felt rather ill from the pure heat in his room. He did not have a fan, much less a window he could open. Uncle Vernon had seen to it that the window would be useless to the freakish boy for anything more than a teasing view of the street below. Now the window sat protected by dense iron bars outside, internally forced shut by screws drilled through the metal.

Now Harry knew why his uncle worked at Grunnings: Easy access to drills so he could use them to make Harry's life miserable in whatever manner possible. Whether denying Harry access to owl post or forcing him to remain locked in his room, Vernon seemed to take a perverse pleasure in Harry's suffering.

At least as of yet it had not been too terrible. Harry vowed to himself to behave perfectly despite whatever the Dursleys would throw at him.

Many hours later, he fell asleep on the sticky wooden floor. It was cooler than the bed by far, which Harry swore had a warming charm on it despite its Muggle history of possession and manufacture. He slept fitfully, his stomach empty and growling viciously, his bladder inversely begging to release the contents within. If he was lucky, he would snag a piece of bacon or remnant of egg from breakfast tomorrow, and Aunt Petunia would be none the wiser.

* * *

Dinner at the Weasley household was a rather eventful affair in the best of circumstances. This night was not the best of circumstances, however. Arthur suffered a trying day at the office this particular day and therefore was in a snappy mood. The twins had been "doing homework" all day, which translated to experimenting with potions and charm work. Percy was trying to figure out T'rembrale on a psychological level. All of this left Ron and Ginny figuring out how to help T'rembrale out. Ginny had decided upon continuing her nonstop chitchat, and Ron, well… Ron was in that awkward stage where anything to do with a girl of any age who wasn't his sister or best friend instantly became a very weird situation.

"Come on, then, everyone sit down already," Mrs. Weasley coaxed her children. "We don't want to make things too strange for T'rembrale, do we?" Instantly, everyone realized that in fact, their guest likely required food. What a strange idea, a living being requiring sustenance!

Ginny walked up to the table with T'rembrale, directing the girl to a seat next to herself. George sat on the other side of Ginny, and Arthur on the other side of T'rembrale. Ginny instantly snatched the basket of rolls her mother had prepared, and then placed one on her own plate and one on T'rembrale's.

Next thing anyone knew, T'rembrale had hardly touched her meal while the others had almost finished. The only things she had eaten were the spinach Mrs. Weasley rarely cooked and the roll, and both were gone very early in the meal.

She had nibbled the mashed potatoes upon the dish, but stopped instantly once a small fragment of bacon was discovered in the food. Likewise, she had not eaten the chicken entrée that took up the majority of the plate.

Arthur was quick to notice this, despite his fatigue. "Molly, you noticing this?" He asked gently, tilting his head towards the newest member at the table. "She's not eating much at all. You sure she's alright?"

Molly halfway stood, looking over the remnants of the meal she had prepared still on the serving plates. She looked concerned as she looked briefly at T'rembrale's still-filled plate. "Are you finished, dear?" She asked T'rembrale despite knowing the Vulcan child knew only a handful of nouns Ginny had been teaching her.

T'rembrale stared blankly at the mother, then her eyes darted at the one dish there was still plenty of within the serving bowl. The spinach. She honestly thought it was disgusting, but it was food she dared consume. Her hand slowly rose from her lap, pointing at the dish.

"You want more? Alright, then." Molly smiled, her fears assuaged. "This is cooked spinach," she added while pointing at it. "Spinach." T'rembrale nodded vaguely, and then repeated, "Spinach." Molly's face broke into a broader smile by far, nodding her head warmly. "That's right, dear."

Her pale green-hued fingertips picked up the newly learned utensils and proceeded to bring the food to its final destination. The food's flavor certainly left something to be desired, she still thought.

Percy was the one to clue in first. "Hey, Mum?" he asked started.

"Yes?" she responded.

"I think she's a vegetarian," he commented. "See how she ate all the stuff without any meat?" Fred nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think he's right for once. She didn't touch the potatoes after finding that you added bacon."

T'rembrale knew they were talking about her and was almost embarrassed. However, that was most unlike a Vulcan. She could not express that in any manner; much less let it show upon her face. She forcefully controlled the blood channeling through the capillaries in her face, forcing the blush from appearing. That would never happen, not if she had anything to say about it.

Molly Weasley, on the other hand, was embarrassed for not realizing it sooner in the meal. "I will be right back, T'rembrale. You just wait there." She stood and rushed into the kitchen, creating an incredibly simple meal.

Just two minutes later, she returned with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and set it before T'rembrale. "Sandwich, T'rembrale," she introduced the food's name. Still slightly flustered, Molly nonetheless controlled herself enough to present her visitor with a proper food item. She and everyone else at the table were elated to see T'rembrale wolf down the food after a few wary sniffs and nibbles.

"Alright, then… dinner's over for you lot. Don't you stare at her, she likely doesn't like it all that much even if she doesn't show it," Mr. Weasley proclaimed. "Off you go, you lot."

{Author's Note: (Yes, again!)

Startrekfanatic: This will be in the main storyline as best I can keep it. Please forgive discrepancies, but feel free to point out any! T'rembrale's contact with humans will be kept to the wizarding community, primarily since otherwise it would screw up the entire thing with the prime timeline. I had to watch First Contact before posting this thanks to you! Haha, I really just needed a good reason to set aside my usual TOS and TNG episodes and get on with the movie.

Anon: My apologies for the whole separation thing- At first I was new to this version of Word and had issues figuring out how to make my separators show up online. Now I have it down, though! Within a day or so I'll fix the previous chapter as well. As for the account, go get 'em, tiger! xD

Arturus: Thanks, really! I'll be sure to keep it up.

Also, for all intensive purposes… Star Trek never aired in the Harry Potter universe I am utilizing. Otherwise, the world is identical to Rowling's wizarding world merged with Trek. }


	5. Happenings

{Author's Note: Warning of an Abused Harry scenario becoming apparent in this chapter. Otherwise, I'm so sorry for this taking so long! I blame a serious case of real life and writers' block together, but it's really no excuse. Anyhow, it's more than a bit shorter than intended... but it's here. Better than not here at all, ne?}

Fred and George Weasley had finally had enough. Ron had shown them Harry's last several letters, each growing greater in brevity and in apparent despair. They figured that by now, their parents would have figured just how despondent Harry was becoming at the Dursley residence, given how the boys brought up the subject almost every night at dinner. However, the adult Weasleys refused to discuss the possibility of Harry coming over starting the next week, from the ending week of July to the start of the new Hogwarts term.

It was time. Time to take care of their little brother's best friend and time to get Harry where he would be free from the blazing hot bedroom and outside working under equally fiery sunshine. Instead, the teen would work solely on homework the Dursleys forbid him to do properly at home and on perfecting his Quidditch skills in the orchard where T'rembrale had appeared.

First things first, the twins cast Disillusionment Charms over themselves and their brooms, knowing that at this point in time the Ministry would disregard the magic. The parents of wizarding children raised in wizarding homes were the ones to manage their usage of magic, not the Trace spell monitored strictly by the Ministry of Magic. However, once out of the presence of an adult wizard, the Trace was as strictly enforced for wizarding children as it was for Muggleborns and wizards raised by Muggle family.

Once hidden from sight, Fred and George kicked off and took flight towards Number 4, Privet Drive.

* * *

On the other hand, T'rembrale had rapidly been learning and using the most simplistic English. The Vulcan child was rather proud of herself, though she would never admit it outright. At least now, she could respond to questions asked of her, whether her answer was "yes", "no," or even, "what?" Ron had also passed along a particular phrase that she tended to use when intrigued: "Bloody hell." Molly rolled her eyes whenever the child used the latter term, but never corrected the girl with her linguistics. After all, how do you tell off an unemotional girl who hardly speaks the same language? She might not listen at all, even if she could understand the lecture.

However, now that the Vulcan was faring well at the Weasley home after several weeks of flustered redheads and a perpetually stone-faced girl, Mrs. Weasley wondered about her more than ever. T'rembrale tended to be far more introverted than the others, even when one considered the fact that Ginny preferred her own company over her brothers' on a regular basis.

"_Where is she from?_ "Was the incessant wonder within the mother's mind. T'rembrale was nothing like any other child she had ever seen, in quite a literal sense. Regardless of what the answer happened to be, Molly would have to be content with curiosity until T'rembrale learned to communicate efficiently with the others around her.

In fact, T'rembrale had managed to pick up an impressive amount of the language she was immersed in. However, she refused to speak the tongue with others until she felt she had at least a rudimentary speaking vocabulary. Even if the grammar were off, then she would then be able to say what she desired. As it were, she could somewhat understand dinner conversations and some of Molly's directions to the children.

The sentence structure was odd, in her opinion. Words did not combine to create new words, except in specific circumstances. Some of the phrases she heard did not make sense. Was water not supposed to go under a bridge, after all?

It was almost all she could conclude to say this much: humans are very illogical. From the angry rows that riled the house to the gentle hugs she caught Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in when they thought they had a rare moment alone, that much was all the signs pointed to.

However, what caught her attention most was how she saw a duo of glimmering patches skitter past her window come nightfall. The only ones she knew that could do that with the odd sticks they held were the adult Weasleys and the twins. The adults did not seem the type, so that left Gred and Forge, as they had dubbed each other. Curiosity bubbled in the girl despite her weariness from a long day of de-gnoming the garden. The boys had gawked at just how far the apparently dainty girl younger than their own ickle baby sister could chuck the gnomes after spinning about. T'rembrale had not bothered to suppress her superior strength in this scenario, and now it was biting her behind.

After that initial gnome, she had almost singlehandedly thrown all the gnomes as far as she could, although the others had been more than happy to knock the poor things into a stupor first. Oh, the crudely amusing things in life…

* * *

(-Warning In Effect-)

* * *

By the time darkness truly fell over England, Fred and George were almost to Harry's prison. Harry himself had no idea, lurking in the shadows of his small bedroom in a pathetic attempt to avoid his uncle's wrath. As the summer had gone on, the abuse had turned from indirect to verbal and at last to Harry's now quivering, fearful form in his undersized closet.

When the twins rapped upon the bars trapping the teen within the room, Harry yelped in terror as he momentarily thought his uncle was bringing another "list of chores" to be done before the family returned later that day. To be honest, the lists were ridiculous, with items such as 'mix toilet cleaner' using a specific powder formula and a specific temperature water. It was not as if Vernon could tell what temperature the water had been, however, so he always assumed that Harry had screwed up royally and used a useless powder that Vernon had made Petunia transfer into the incorrectly labeled box.

All for stupid gags, Harry knew. Yet each time he "screwed up", the workload grew worse or he was shut inside his room for several days on end, escaping only for toilet breaks. This time, he was on his fourth night.

For the past three days, Harry had been miserable in the sweltering heat that tended to build up in his small room. His uncle had blocked off the air vents as what he thought of as a clever way of preventing any possible escape attempts, despite how Harry had been unable to fit through since he was four.

He could hardly wait for Hogwarts.

* * *

{Review Reply: Anon, I plan on this being as different from the timeline in Rowling's books as I can think up. Not necessarily because of T'rembrale's presence, but because I find fanfics that follow the timeline exactly to be boring as all get out. As far as plot details go... don't worry about me volunteering them, ever. I rarely figure out specific details until I start writing the chapter! All I know is that at this point, the next options will be obvious and I should have a much easier time getting you guys a meatier chunk of writing to devour.}


	6. Escape

{Author's Note: Gah! I wish this could be longer, but time wasn't in my favor this chapter. I leave for camp in about four hours, which means zero internet or word processors... I just figured I'd leave you all with what I had written in the past few days. Better this than nothing, I suppose? Hehe... well... enough with my rambling! Onward to Harry and T'rembrale!}

-Slight Recap-

Harry yelped in terror as Fred and George rapped upon the window panes, thinking it was his uncle. He refused to make any further sound, however. After several moments of sheer fear, Fred called out to the terrified teen. "Oi! Harry! You awake in there?"

The terrified teen snapped himself out of the panic as best he could, hoping he was not bruised too visibly. Shuffling into a standing position and forcing a smile onto his face, Harry waved at the duo hovering by his window in a slight shimmer that suggested a fading Disillusionment Charm. "I suggest you go through the back door and pick the locks to my room, guys," he advised the twins. "Anything you do with the bars will be bloody loud."

The Weasley boys nodded, then silently turned their brooms about to circle around to the back as Harry had directed. Harry's forced smile slid into a genuine grin of pure relief despite the soreness of his jaw from a good slug courtesy of Dudley a few days prior. He was at last almost free from this torture chamber, as soon as the two could sneak up and figure out the many locks.

However, he almost immediately realized he had forgotten a piece of key information: the squeaky step's location. Harry cursed himself mentally, then crossed his fingers and began to pray that either his aunt and uncle were sawing logs or that the twins flew upstairs instead of walking. Neither was a likely situation, but he had to keep this flicker of hope alive for as long as the opportunity lasted. Moments later, he cringed. The stair resounded in a way that only an alarm bell should be able to, but then again, perhaps that was the purpose to the sound.

Fred and George winced as the stair creaked, but hurried upstairs even faster now despite the noise. At the landing, they saw a small living area with a well-worn couch with indentions in the cushions that could only belong to Dudley and a television. To the right was a door, which Fred softly tested. Unlocked. He turned the handle and scanned the room, jumping slightly when Dudley released a monstrous snore.

Fred shut the door almost as silently as he had opened it, and then shook his head towards his brother. George nodded, and then turned about. The twin peeked in the next door, which happened to be a small bathroom containing a tiny shower, a toilet, and a sink. Not the friend they were going to get out of here, though.

Turning about, the twins continued to the third and final door. They almost kicked themselves for not realizing this was the door to begin with, bedecked as it was with locks. Immediately, the two started on the two deadbolts with a hairpin apiece. "Don't worry, Harry, it's us," whispered Fred. "You won't be in there for long," added George.

So far, this operation was going rather smoothly for one of Fred and George's plans. The deadbolts had been opened, and the door chain installed had been easily removed, just as the standard doorknob lock had been simply disabled. The two slid open the door, George poking his radiant face into Harry's desolate room.

Harry's smile broadened further as he ran towards the door. "Alright, I've got all I need up here. Let's get downstairs and grab my trunk before someone else wakes up." He grasped Hedwig's empty cage tightly, as well as a satchel containing a few knickknacks from under the loose floorboard. Leading the way, Harry delicately skipped the creakily loud step, and then paused. The cupboard under the stairs where his school things were kept was uncannily close to his aunt and uncle's room.

As if a silent agreement had been passed between the trio, they began to slink about even more silently than before. When within sight of the locked cupboard, Harry pointed towards the door, but stood back. The incorrigible redheads proceeded eagerly and quickly jimmied the lock, extracting Harry's trunk.

'_Got it,'_ mouthed George as the two cooperated to ease quietly the trunk out of the narrow hallway. They were so close, and the back door but a short distance away.

But so was the master bedroom.

An irritated grumble emitted from behind the closed door, and the trio froze. Harry began to tremble, though he attempted to disguise the shakes as excitement with his blatant smile. He frantically nodded to the others to get the stuff outside so he could open the trunk and extract his Nimbus 2000.

George got the message and elbowed Fred, who opened the door as silently as possible before grasping the handle on his end of the trunk. The two synchronously made their way outdoors, to the backyard. Harry released the breath he had not realized he had been holding and followed light-footedly.

Reaching back, Harry's clammy palm grasped the doorknob and pulled it shut; hoping the harsh squeak that the door emitted when humidity permeated the atmosphere would not appear.

Unfortunately, his prayers remained unanswered and the door hinges created an unearthly yowl.

The Weasley boys flushed a ruby red, snatching Harry's trunk in a death grip. They quickly reacquired their battered broomsticks, and then took off on fleet feet. A furious bellow emitted from behind as the traitorous back door opened to reveal Vernon Dursley and Petunia standing sternly behind him.

Harry froze shortly, his emotions ruling his body despite the equally as powerful desire to run. Fred glanced back, and then paused in his mad dash away from the house. "Harry! Hurry up, you git!"

It took only that to realize that this time, Harry was not stuck here to suffer his uncle's wrath. This time, Fred and George were here and had already broken him out of the house. This time, Harry just needed to _run_. Without that input, he was as imprisoned as he had been before the twins had come about that night.

He ran.

Vernon was not oblivious to this and immediately took off in his fastest gait. Unfortunately for him, he was hobbled by the excess body weight acquired from his desk job and refusal to "sacrifice time with his dear family" (which Harry took to mean the "time used to torture his nephew") and actually visit a gym for a few hours each week.

In this respect, Harry was at a distinct advantage as far as body shape went. He was incredibly lean due to the malnutrition forced upon him during the summer, even if not muscular, and could outsprint any of Dudley's minions back in his primary school days. Dudley may have been a whale of a boy, but he was still quicker on his feet than his father.

Once off the property but still within hearing range of Vernon's outraged howls, the trio slowed to a stop. Fred and George immediately began unlocking the trunk, knowing that even if the Dursleys were not hot on their tail, the police just as easily could be.

They whipped open the lid, extracting Harry's slightly crushed Nimbus and returning it to its owner. "Here you go," George said as Fred passed the broom to their friend. "Now, where's your wand?" he asked as he dug about. Seconds later, the holly and phoenix feather wand was safely returned to Harry's bare hands.

In the distance, the boys heard sirens blaring and knew it was time to fly. Fred and George haphazardly secured Harry's trunk to their brooms, then took off. Harry was already waiting in the air when they reached the cloud layer and proceeded home.

There would be quite a bit of explaining to do when they arrived at The Burrow…

* * *

T'rembrale struggled to sleep. It was not that her bed in Ginny's room was uncomfortable. She purged her mind of anything but language exercises, hoping that the rote memorization drills would help her to rest.

However, after hours of cementing her knowledge of the English language, the Vulcan child finally gave up. Instead, she retreated to her corner and lit a match that Mrs. Weasley had reluctantly provided after several attempts of pleading. With that match, she lit a candle she had also pleaded for, but this time with Mr. Weasley. Fortunately for her, the man was much more patient with her attempts at communication.

Once the candle caught flame, she focused entirely upon its flame and immersed herself in a traditional Vulcan meditation. With luck, Ginny would sleep through this as she had many times before. This night, luck was with neither T'rembrale nor Harry.

Ginny stirred to alertness and looked down towards the silent girl, waiting several minutes before letting T'rembrale know she was awake. "T'rembrale?"

Almost immediately, but not in a shocked manner, T'rembrale turned about to face Ginny. Her eyes looked up at the girl questioningly, evidently not going to respond vocally this time.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Ginny could hardly explain it, but she felt a big sister vibe towards this girl. And this vibe included watching out for T'rembrale's well-being. "You know it's near impossible to keep up with the boys if you're tired, don't you?"

T'rembrale nodded, mentally formulating her words as rapidly as she could create somewhat cohesive sentence structures. "I…" she paused, clearly deciding among terms, "need not as much sleep."

Ginny blinked, realizing this was the first of T'rembrale's "sentences" she had been present for. She felt a need to encourage this speech, hoping that the more she spoke, the more the girl would gain an ease with the tongue. "Ehm, okay, but you could try to rest in bed at least."

Light brown eyes reflected off the dancing firelight as T'rembrale shook her head. "Hours since bedtime." She paused, fishing for words again. "I think when cannot sleep at home," she completed as best she could. Meditation was not something the Weasleys frequently mentioned, much less around their newest housemate. Therefore, it was no wonder she had no idea of the term and substituted as best she could with "think".

Ginny nodded, then slid from under her blankets. "Alright, but be careful with the candle." She proceeded onwards out of the room and towards the bathroom, needing to take care of some pressing needs before going back to sleep.

Her pointed ears catching most of the sounds emanating from Ginny, T'rembrale returned to her meditations, entirely ignoring when her roommate returned to bed. The flickering flame was the focus of her attention, emotion being carefully purged from her consciousness for hours.

At last, she put out the flame and returned to bed as the sun rose. Footsteps seemingly thundering upstairs awakened her curiosity, but the girl knew that sooner rather than later, all would be explained. She at last drifted into a restless haze, a mocking semblance of sleep.

When everyone at the Weasley house awakened (or was shoved out of bed, in Ron's case), the first thing T'rembrale heard was Molly's voice first excitedly welcoming Harry to their home, then turning on the twins as a viper would.

If not for her perpetual training, she would have smiled contentedly. This house was truly starting to feel like a home, not unlike the research vessel that had likely long ago been forced to abandon its search for her presence. Perhaps she would be found later and rejoin her people. However, T'rembrale also knew that was highly unlikely event. She would have to acclimate herself to human life, for better or for worse.

{And... that be it. I'll try and write while I'm at camp, but good luck to me on that...}


	7. Something to Think About

{Author's Note: Gaaah… Alright. Time for explaining myself. Since camp finished, I've been in a depressive haze, more or less. Life and all that… Then today my parents found out about my suicidal tendencies and pansexuality. So long story short, I've been mentally incapacitated by life in general, stress, and mental illness. However, now I'm pulling out of it for now at least, and can _write! _Good grief, it's amazing to have a clear head for a few days.

By the by, next chapter's already started. It would have been an addition to this one, but somehow it didn't feel right as a direct addition to this. So… next chapter! Yay!}

* * *

Dinner at the Weasley house was quite a joyous event the eve after Harry's arrival. Molly bustled about, insisting that Harry in particular eat up, pushing seconds and even fourths his way after hearing of the Dursleys' atrocious feeding habits. He was certainly not the Harry the others had last seen as they all disembarked from the train, but he was also not the terrified Harry that Fred and George had seen in his bedroom.

T'rembrale sat next to him, her food picked at as she tried to figure out this newcomer. The redheaded clan, of course, introduced the two and T'rembrale's lingual difficulties explained. Nevertheless, she spoke up during the meal for the first time since her arrival.

"Harry?" She asked, looking towards him curiously. The table froze, stunned. Likewise, Harry jumped something awful before turning towards her. "Yes?"

"Try the carrots," she said as she looked pointedly at the serving dish of raw carrots and the respective veggie dip, then at the mess Mrs. Weasley had dumped on his plate without consideration of his food preferences. She personally liked the vegetable best plain, since the scent of the dip tended to be far too strong for her tastes, but everyone else at the table relished the goop. To each their own, she supposed.

Ginny was the first to crack into a smile, barely suppressing a chuckle as she observed Harry's awkward fishing for a reply. "Ehm, sorry, T'rembrale. I don't like carrots all that much," he finally managed to splutter out.

T'rembrale shrugged and stabbed a clean fork into the carrots once more for her seconds, almost in a 'more for me, then!' gesture. At this, Ron could hardly help himself and started a suppressed chuckle. Harry glanced up, his gaze shooting laser beams at his best friend before returning to his meal.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, Harry arose from his seat. "Thanks so much for the meal, Mrs. Weasley. It was delicious, and yes, I'm certain I had enough." He smiled weakly, and then proceeded up the stairs to his refuge in Ron's raucously orange room. T'rembrale nodded, acknowledging his gesture before proceeding to finish her final bites of dinner. "_Nemaiyo_," she said simply, bowed slightly, then followed Harry's path to the stairs, but branched off at Ginny's room instead.

In there, she picked one of Ginny's old schoolbooks and began flipping through, sounding out everything she could given the reading lessons Ginny and Mr. Weasley had tag-teamed on earlier in the day. Now that she understood the language enough to dare speak and know she was communicating and not just spitting out garble, T'rembrale wanted to read, to be able to devour the texts of this foreign land.

Surprisingly, T'rembrale found herself understanding more and more of this book. However, the more she read, the less sense it made. Perhaps she would ask Ginny to explain when she returned to her room. She proceeded to contemplate how a goblet could become a turtle under any circumstances, finding that the matter was simply illogical.

A goblet was a goblet, and a turtle was a turtle. One was alive, the other not. One was metal or glass or stone, the other flesh and bone and blood.

As she came to this resolution, T'rembrale recalled that Harry and Ginny had mentioned going to the same school. Harry was older, and therefore in a higher level of his education. That meant that he would understand this and possibly even be able to explain it to her in a manner she would understand, unlike the stumbling Muggle-mixed lectures of Mr. Weasley and the well-meaning but simple explanations she gained from Mrs. Weasley.

Almost immediately, she left the room with Ginny's first year Transfiguration book under her arm and power walked up the stairs.

In Ron's room, Harry heard the stairs creaking and instinctively poised himself for trouble. However, when the door resounded, it was a gentle sound entirely unlike his aunt and uncle's furious hammerings. When the sound repeated itself, at last he snapped himself out of his reverie. "Come in, I guess," he said halfheartedly.

T'rembrale cracked the door open, easing herself inside with the tome under her arm. "Explain this book?" she asked, her eyes reflecting her thirst for knowledge.

Harry looked up perplexedly, now seeing that she held _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch. First off, he had no idea she could read, if the lessons today were any indication. Second, what was she doing learning to read properly with a _textbook_? Most kids preferred the readers teachers handed out on a regular basis, or if they were advanced, short chapter books and novellas.

Yet, T'rembrale stood before him with a first-year textbook, asking for help understanding it. Well, fine. As long as he did not have to read it aloud to her, explaining the more complicated wording.

He sighed, but took the book. "What is it in there?" he asked, almost grimacing as T'rembrale's eyes lit up despite herself. "Goblet to turtle. How?" she asked, taking Harry off guard with her directness. Her mannerisms would take some time to become accustomed to.

Outside Ron's door, the twins, Ron, and Ginny all crowded in an attempt to hear Harry's patient explanation of how Transfiguration works, including word substitutions for terms T'rembrale asked about before she filed it away for future reference.

Fred looked at George, making kissy faces. George nodded, thinking exactly the same thing. Ron was simply flabbergasted that his rather non-studious friend was this good a tutor to a kid from a non-magical background and who spoke just enough English to get by if needed. On the other hand, Ginny was proud. It had been she who had fumbled with this spell in school, and now she wished she had asked Harry for an explanation sooner. Perhaps her final grade for the term would have been higher had she understood it properly at the time.

* * *

Several days later, the household was in an uproar. It was Harry's birthday, and he was finally becoming a true teenager: unlucky thirteen. Even so, he considered his personal unlucky number to be one; considering that was the year he lost his parents and was forced to live with those brutes, the Dursleys.

T'rembrale was confused. Why was everyone in such a hurry today, of all days? She tried to help out, her broken English slightly better as she gained knowledge towards the usage of articles and the like. It certainly helped to be able to communicate, the Weasleys found.

Once dinner rolled around, the pile of presents on the floor was ready for assault. Harry complied with the adult Weasleys' desire to eat before gifts and cake somewhat reluctantly. However, the meal was finished sooner than most. A smile lit up Harry's face as he was finally given reign to his birthday presents.

As this was his first actual birthday _party_, Harry was in a new realm. He loved it. Reaching for a medium-sized package, he immediately tore into the wrappings with no sense that he should preserve the paper. What he found elicited an even larger smile than before; he found that now he had a Wizarding-style Quidditch poster! Ron had decided that Harry was to be a Chudley Cannons fan as well, so it was better to start now than when Harry actually knew something about the individual teams.

"Thanks, Ron. Can we put it up in your room 'til we get back to the dorms?" Ron lit up at the suggestion. Chuckling, Harry returned to his small pile. "Alright, now… Which one next?"

As Ginny leapt to her feet to select her smallish present, T'rembrale thought she understood. Gift-giving ceremonies were frequently more formal among Vulcans, but they also commemorated very special occasions such as births and marriages in her experience. Perhaps not every Vulcan followed those traditions, but her parents had, and that was what mattered to T'rembrale.

At that understanding, she had to pause and think for a moment. Why would Harry be getting things? Was it a housewarming-type event, or maybe an engagement proclamation? She turned to Fred and nudged his arm.

"Yeah?" he asked, wondering what this was about.

"Why is he getting…" T'rembrale fished for the word in a lethological moment, "things?" she completed after searching for an equivalent English term to _ta'an_ and failing to find it. Fred just smiled, realizing that this event really did have a terminology all its own, and so T'rembrale could not be expected to understand much of it after her scarce months of lingual immersion.

"It's Harry's birthday. The day that he was born. How many birthdays you've had tells how old you are here," Fred tried to explain. "I'm fifteen, and so's George." T'rembrale nodded, taking a moment to understand. "At home, I'm…" She paused again, this time remembering her English numbers, "fourteen."

This took Fred aback. Fourteen? He could have sworn she was younger than Ginny by at least two years! Even so, she was two years older, apparently. That hardly made sense in his mind, seeing as she certainly looked far like an ickle firstie despite her wonky eyebrows and pointed ears than any fourth-year either he or his twin had ever encountered at Hogwarts.

He chose to leave the conversation at that, however, and return to the scene before him. Harry was acting like a kindergarten child, ripping through the wrappings of his last gift: from the twins but marked as from the Weasley family in general. As he lifted the lid of the box within, a puff of multicolored dust filled the air and he began to cough.

Moments later, his hair turned a brilliantly bright shade of green to match his eyes. When Harry dared open his mouth, his tongue matched as well. "What was that?" he asked, not realizing that his voice had been changed to sound like a two-year-old version of himself. The twins arose from their seat and high-fived each other before going over and squatting before Harry.

"That would be…" Fred started, leaving George to finish the sentence.

"Our latest invention, and…" George followed suit, apparently for dramatics.

"You were just the first victim."

"Aside from ourselves, of course…"

"And of the finished product."

The two nodded and arose from their position, yelling simultaneously now that they had inhaled the same powder. They knew the matter would be in the air, and therefore decided to be the _other_ victims so Harry would not be embarrassed. "Happy birthday, Harry!" the two called out in a raucous toddler two-tone.

T'rembrale could hardly help but be content, even as the sugar-laden treat was placed upon her plate. Cake, she believed it was called. Cautiously taking a fork and sampling it before diving in, she found it to be too sweet for frequent consumption. However, once every year seemed to be often enough.

Now she just wished that she could have a birthday party as well, even if she could not react in kind as Harry had. Perhaps soon, she knew that she was to turn fifteen before too long.

* * *

[Author's note: A Vulcan year is 0.73 Earth years. Which means this much: T'rembrale is fourteen _Vulcan_ years old. Since she was not born on Earth, she has no Earth birthday, just a rough guess at this point since she doesn't know how time aligns between the planets. Make sense? Yes? Good.

Now, as for replies… None this chapter. My connection's fritzy as I finish my commentary, and I'd rather upload than find reviews and reply.

Regardless, please do review! At the least, I read them and incorporate the comments into the story if possible.]


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